Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 207 Provocation in the Woods

Chapter 208 Provocation in the Woods

Zawish rode on his black warhorse, his gleaming black plate armor reflecting a dim light in the dappled sunlight.

He irritably adjusted the visor of his helmet, his gaze sweeping over the long line behind him.

Two hundred heavily armed mercenaries trudged along, their boots stomping and scraping on the muddy road. Their spears were askew, their shields drooped, and their faces were etched with exhaustion and unease.

The fifty Polish cavalrymen fared slightly better, but their tight grip on the reins and their constantly shifting gaze betrayed their inner tension.

Damn it—this damned silence! Requisitioning grain, easy for you to say. This land has been ravaged by the Hungarian wars and looted by the Cumans, reduced to ashes and hatred.

The officer was drinking wine in his warm tent, while the Cuman barbarians sneered at him, and I was leading this bunch of frightened birds to this godforsaken place—

If I fail to complete the mission, my Polish Black Eagle flag will probably be taken down from the wall.

"Snap!"

A sudden snapping sound rang out, like a thunderclap breaking the silence.

"Enemy attack?!" The team instantly stirred, with the creaking of crossbows being cocked, the clanging of metal, and terrified whispers filling the air.

Zawish abruptly reined in his warhorse, which reared up and neighed. He suppressed the turmoil in his heart, his deep voice carrying suppressed anger through his visor.

"Silence! Be alert! Are you scared out of your wits by some cowardly farmers or forest bandits? Are you still warriors under the command of the esteemed King of Poland? Where is your honor? Has it all been eaten by the dogs?!"

His words struck the soldiers like a whip, but failed to completely dispel the pervasive fear. The overly quiet forest seemed like a gaping maw, ready to devour them at any moment.

What a coincidence—this terrain—Silver Dawn—those ghostly figures—no, impossible, they should be in the east—am I overthinking it? This damn intuition—

He shook his head, as if to dispel the ominous premonition, and raised his voice, trying to mask his unease with determination: "Speed ​​up!"

Beyond that damned forest lies our designated grain-collecting village! There you'll find the food we need, as well as women and ale to help you relax!

This hollow encouragement couldn't even convince himself.

Just as the group quickened their pace slightly, two figures suddenly appeared at the edge of the woods ahead.

They were dressed in fur coats and hooded hats, carrying simple hunting bows; they were none other than Jerry the Rat and Bonak the Tomb Raider.

The two men were carrying dead rats that they had found somewhere.

"Hey! Look! A bunch of big oafs in tin cans!"

Jerry yelled, his voice sharp and shrill, "You brought so many people to hunt in our forest? Too bad you scared all the deer away!"

Bonak echoed in an even huskyer voice, "Go back to your castle! Every grain of rice here belongs to the starving villagers!"

Unfortunately, these provocative words had little effect—because the Poles couldn't understand what they were saying.

Moreover, the Polish soldiers, who had been advancing cautiously, had already formed a pincer movement around the wagons, weapons at the ready. The cavalrymen also tightened their reins, vigilantly looking around, fearing an ambush.

Damn it, all that performance for nothing.

Jerry and Bonak exchanged a glance and began to make provocative gestures. They would wave the dead rat in their hands from time to time, pat their own buttocks from time to time, and spit on the ground repeatedly, which was very humiliating.

Zawis's pupils contracted. He was about to order the infantry archers behind him to advance and shoot the two ungrateful commoners when he saw five Polish cavalrymen at the front of the column, already driven by tension and frustration, spur their horses forward without orders, raise their lances, and roar, "Crush these vermin!"

Upon seeing this, Jerry and Bonac immediately feigned extreme fear and turned to disappear into the depths of the forest, their movements as swift as foxes.

The cavalry and Polish infantry burst into laughter.

I am meek and submissive to the Knights of Dawn, but I strike hard against the common people!

"Come back! You idiot! Don't go into the woods!"

Zavish, as the leader of the delegation, sensed something was amiss, but his warning came too late.

Just as the five cavalrymen entered the relatively sparsely wooded but dimly lit area, several short, sharp whooshing sounds suddenly rang out: "Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Crossbow bolts from the bushes on the flanks struck their targets with pinpoint accuracy. One pierced through a gap in the chainmail and nestled under a cavalryman's arm; another pierced the visor of his visor; and two others lodged themselves in the horse's neck.

The mournful neighing of five warhorses and the screams of the cavalrymen rang out almost simultaneously. The pursuing Polish cavalrymen fell heavily from their horses like felled logs, splashing up a cloud of mud.

Five ragged men rushed out of the woods and slit the throat of the cavalryman who had fallen from his horse but was still alive, with daggers.

"There's an ambush!" The Polish troops were thrown into chaos.

Zawish was both shocked and furious, and hurriedly shouted, "Form ranks! Form a circular formation around the wagon! Quickly!"

The infantrymen frantically carried out orders, managing to form a makeshift defensive circle with shields and spears, but panic spread like a plague.

All eyes were fixed in horror on the grove of trees that had swallowed their companion.

Five men dressed in tattered refugee clothes emerged from the woods and stopped just outside the range of arrows. Leading them was the Pole, Adel; their faces were smeared with mud and grime, but their eyes were sharp as hawks.

The five men, along with Jerry and Bonac, began to plunder the armor and weapons from the corpses on the ground in front of all the Polish soldiers. Their movements looked clumsy, and they sometimes pushed each other over a beautiful sword.

He looked exactly like a rogue forest bandit.

Adel even picked up a cavalryman's winged helmet, tilted it on his own head, and then awkwardly tried to climb onto the masterless warhorse that was pacing restlessly.

He slipped several times, making all sorts of ridiculous and laughable movements, which drew laughter from the "vagrants" behind him.

"Look! The Polish knight's prized steed!" Adel shouted mockingly in perfect Polish, his voice full of sarcasm. "Now it's ours! Thank you for your generous gift, sir!"

"Bastards! I'm going to kill you all!"

A Polish cavalry captain, his eyes bloodshot with rage, watched as his comrades' bodies were desecrated and their spoils were plundered; he nearly ground his teeth to powder. He pulled on the reins, ready to charge.

"Stop! This is a trap! Do you want to take everyone to their deaths?!"

Zawish's voice was hoarse with anger and anxiety as he gripped his sword hilt tightly. "Maintain formation! Nobody move!"

"Boss, they're just a bunch of scoundrels and bandits, why should we be afraid of them?"

"Yeah, they're not the Knights of the Silver Dawn. If we had all charged in from the start, we would have killed them all!"

"It's not too late!"

Humiliation and anger had breached the dam of reason. Seeing Adel and his men finally "clumsily" climb onto their horses, swaying as if they were about to escape with their spoils, the Polish cavalry could no longer contain themselves.

"For glory! To avenge our brothers! Follow me!"

The knights completely ignored their commander Zawish's orders, raised their lances, spurred their horses, and charged forward.

Driven by anger and the urge to reclaim their honor, the forty-odd cavalrymen roared and broke away from their own lines, charging towards Adel and his men like an iron torrent.